Possession
by Chi Haku
Summary: A series of mini-fics focused on the pairing Dean/Sam. All prompts welcome at all times, ratings vary per chapter from K -M. NO CHARACTER DEATH HERE AND ONLY HAPPY ENDINGS! Wincest Dean/Sam DeanxSam -Republished-
1. Possession

**A/N:** This has been editted into the format that the rest of the mini-fics will be in. That is ALL!

**Summary:** The moment John and Mary brought home their second son from the hospital they should have known.

**Rating:** K+

**Warnings: **Weechesters Wincest DeanSam Overprotective!Dean

The moment John and Mary brought home their second son from the hospital they should have known.

They dismissed Dean's babysitter, but only after she had cooed over Sam a little, then went to put the new baby in his crib. However, the babysitter had failed to mention that Dean had been stubborn enough not to go to sleep in his own room. In fact, he hadn't even gone to sleep in a real bed.

Dean had fallen asleep next to the crib in a bed of comforters and sheets that his babysitter had obviously made him. He was curled up in a ball, one hand tucked under his chin, one in front of his nose and mouth.

The two adults had had to pause for a second, just to blink and stare at their now eldest son, surprised. The thought that came after the "What…?" was something along the lines of "Aw how cute." But that's to be expected because this is a sleeping baby Dean we're talking about here. The only thing cuter is a sleeping baby Sam.

Mary was the first to smile, handing John Sam and walking over to her sleeping boy.

"Dean." she whispered, shaking him slightly. "Dean wake up."

Slowly, hazel forest eyes peeked open, his small hand rubbing at one of them in his half awake state. He yawned and looked up at his mother.

"Mommy…?"M

ary smiled.

"Hey sleepy head. Your new brother is home."

Dean was up from his makeshift bed in seconds flat, which amazed both of his parents. His mother put it down to the hunter genes, which made her slightly nervous and oddly proud at the same time.

He tugged at his father's shirt, making him look down.

"C'n I see him?"

John smiled and nodded.

"Alright, go sit on the couch and you can hold him."

Dean scurried to the nursery couch, sitting down and looking positively giddy. His father sat on his other side, instructing his son on how to hold his arms so he wouldn't drop the baby. Mary watched with eyes full of affection as her young son took his newborn brother into his arms, holding him tenderly.

The brunette boy stared down into the face of his sleeping brother, observing every detail that he could. He had the small bundle of chubby cuteness rested on his knees and on one arm, leaving one arm free. His free hand came up and brushed against the small boy's cheek.

"He's cute." Dean commented.

John grinned.

"Yeah, babies are like that De."

To both parent's surprises, Dean didn't turn around and stick out his tongue at his father like he usually would. Instead, he simply kept petting his brother's cheek.

"What's his name?" he asked inquisitively.

"Samuel." Mary answered.

Dean nodded.

"Samuel…Sam, Sammy. I like it."

He leaned down and kissed Sam's forehead.

"My Sammy."

They should have known then.

But it wasn't until six months later that John even started to notice the signs.

Six months later, John pressed the baby Sam into Dean's arms, telling to get outside, go now, GO. The fire was way too hot and he was well aware that should his youngest son stay in the house too long, the smoke would kill him.

He expected Dean to ask questions, to pause, but he was shocked by his son for what felt like the millionth time in the last five and a half months. The light brunette simply nodded and turned, racing down the stairs and out the door.

And when John was outside, standing beside his son, watching his home, his future, burn to the ground, he noticed something. He saw the way Dean was holding Sam, almost subconsciously it seemed, close, and possessive, as if he owned him.

Then, when Sam started crying, without any prompting from his father, Dean started cooing to his brother. Even though his voice was cracking with tears and shock, his rocked his younger sibling, telling him "It's gonna be okay" and "Don't worry, I gotcha Sammy."

That's when he started to notice.

But really, it wasn't until Dean was nineteen and Sam was fifteen that he noticed.

It was the summer of Sam's fifteenth birthday and they were on a hunt, obviously. No rest for the wicked, as Sam had mutter irritably, not two days earlier.

They were sneaking around the woods, Dean, much closer to Sam than John would have advised. But he knew by now not to even try to force the two brother's apart, because it would never work.

Anyway, they were creeping through underbrush, guns at the ready, loaded with silver to take out whatever evil they came across.

Sam, growing long and lanky, was the epitome of silence. He slunk, catlike, through bushes and tree trunks, as though he was born to be doing just this. John had been aware from the time Sam started hunting, that even though he bitched and moaned about it, he was GOOD. And not just good, but really fucking, catch-the-evil-shitbag-every-time good. His son may hate it but he was a born hunter, whether he liked it or not.

Dean wasn't as silent, or shadowy as his younger sibling, but what he lacked there he made up for in aim and tactics. He had the sharpest shoot that John had seen in a long time, and the fact that that was his eldest child made him proud.

John paused, and motioned for the boys to do so as well. Sam froze mid step, on complete alert, his brother pausing just as quickly. They listened, for what, well, only they could pick it out, but whatever it was, they apparently found it.

A quick nod and a few hand motions, and John had Dean staring at him like he was out of his mind.

"Dean." his father hissed. "NOW."

Dean shook his head.

"No sir! I'm not splitting off from Sammy!"

Sam remained silent, watching the exchange slightly fearfully.

"NOW DEAN."

Dean flinched slightly. Turning, he ruffled Sam's hair and muttered something John could catch to him, to which Sam nodded. They were off seconds later, slinking away in different directions, leaving their father to go his own route.

Satisfied, the elder hunter started making his way closer to the creature's den, trying to ignore the odd feeling he had gotten when Dean refused an order.

Ten minutes in, and he knew he was getting closer, that he and his sons would be converging very soon. The first person he saw was Dean, twenty yards away and looking decidedly nervous. He couldn't quite sight Sam yet, so he assumed the boy was about twenty or so yards from Dean.

But then, out of nowhere, from Dean's other side there was a scream. Both of their heads snapped in that direction, and John just managed to catch Dean's muttered "Sammy."

Then he was off faster than no bullet John had ever seen. Fast enough to have become simply a blur in the underbrush, leaving his father to follow after.

By the time he reached his sons, Dean was crouched over Sam like some kind of lion protecting their cub, hazel green eyes flashing dangerously at the creature coming at them. His gun lay five paces away, where he couldn't get to it, and John wasn't about to take the chance he would make it if he dived.

Raising his rifle, he shot at the creature, making it scream. It turned around and he shot it point blank in the face. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to kill the damn thing, but he wasn't totally interested in that now. He allowed the creature to lope off, knowing he'd catch it now that it was injured.

When he turned to see how Sam was doing, he was shocked to find Dean wrapping Sam's arm, which was pretty torn up, as though it had been in the things jaws, in bandages he must have had in his pockets.

"Know it hurts Sammy." he murmured. "Just hang on, kay? Gonna patch you up when we get back to the motel alright?"

Sam nodded, smiling slightly when his older brother leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

Dean got up, telling Sam to let the ointment set, before walking over to his father. John wondered what Dean wanted with him, when he caught the angry flashing in his son's eyes.

Dean stopped in front of him, arms crossed over his chest and eyes blazing.

"I respect you." he whispered, so Sam wouldn't hear. "And you know that. So hear me when I say this now."

He took a step forward.

"You EVER make me separate from Sam EVER again and I might just have to rip you limb from limb understand? Sam is MINE and I won't let anything hurt him unless I say so! And even then I want someone to check I'm not possessed."

With that, he turned around and went back to Sam, dropping down beside him and asking him if he felt okay enough to walk, petting his brother's hair.

John stared in shock at his sons as Dean picked up his brother, holding him gently in his arms, making sure he wasn't hurting him. He pressed a small kiss to Sam's cheek before starting to walk back to where they had parked the Impala.

It was then that John really realized what he should have fifteen years ago, on the night Sam was brought home.

Sam was Dean's.

He belonged to his brother.

And anyone, even himself, who got into the way of that, would find it to be a danger to their health.

Sam, was Dean's possession, end of story.

He picked up Dean and Sam's guns, carrying them along with his as he walked, almost trance like, back to the car. He was just in time to see Dean pulling back from a flushed looking Sam, whose eyes darted to him, before he slid into the back of the car.

Any other day, John would have put it down to the heat. But today he knew the truth of what he had missed.

Was it wrong?

On SO many levels it wasn't even funny.

Was it sinful?

No church would come within twenty miles of his sons, that was for sure.

Was it symbolic?

In an extremely twisted and messed up way? Yeah.

Was it the most pure kind of love John had ever seen?

Most certainly.

**A/N:** I just had to revise this to put in the updates and all I have to say is...

CRAPPY WINCEST IS CRAPPY.


	2. VERY IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE

**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE DON'T SKIP THIS OR DON'T READ**

It has been brought to my attention that a hell of a lot of people like my little fanfic "Possession" (which I wrote in less than an hour as a challenge from a friend). And so, on request from others, I have decided to make it into a mini-series of Wincest-y-ness.

How does this effect you? Well here's what I need you all to do;

**SEND ME PROMPTS.**

Anything at all that comes to mind in conjunction to Wincest! Anything! The series won't follow a timeline or scale and I'll just throw in the prompt wherever the hell I want. So the first chapter (Possession) was about them as kids, the next could be about them right now. And depending, I may not make a single one of them related, and it will all just be a bunch of Wincest-y goodness.

Here's the rules for prompts;

DA RULES

+No other pairings but Dean/Sam!

+No Character Death people! I am NOT killing off one of the brothers unless I can bring them back!

+Lemons are WELCOME but I'm not making every chapter a smutfest. I DO enjoy a bit of fluff in there thanks.

+I'm not putting in your OCs because I'm not putting in MY OCs. (The temptation to put Ame in is hard to resist but I won't)

+No Crossovers. No No No No.

+No Psycho!Sam okay? I'm not into your kinky Michael!Dean/Lucifer!Sam fetish damnit.

I think that's about it.....

Oh yeah! And rating will change per chapter, most likely, the overall rating will however be left at **T**. That being said...

**_HOP TO IT PEOPLE!_**

~Blood~


	3. Don't Cut Your Hair!

**Prompt:** Hair

**Summary: **Dean finds Sam about to cut his hair.

**Rating:** T

**Warnings:** Bullies, boy-on-boy kissing

Sam had always been a self-conscious kid. Even at home. He generally kept to himself and whoever DID try to get close to him well, how does one put this, they didn't exactly get past the glare of death. But moving was something that happened regularly, meaning new towns, and new schools. New schools meant new people, and new people meant more trouble.

Sam was fifteen, tall, lanky, thin and as far as Dean Winchester was concerned, drop dead gorgeous. His scraggly, scrawny fourteen year old self had somehow reinvented itself into an almost impossibly attractive boy. He wasn't Dean-Attractive, he was "tall-dark-and-slight-feminine" attractive. The kind that made you do a double take just so you could get another look at him.

Dean's favorite thing about Sam was most likely his eyes, those big, beautiful, round orbs of emerald and jade. His second favorite thing, was Sam's hair. He didn't know why, but the mass of shaggy, messy, constantly sex-hair, fluff was the most adorable thing on his little brother. No matter how many times Sam tried to tame it, not only did he fail miserably, he always ended up all aggravated and huffy about it.

Heck, he'd even tried hair gel like Dean. No go, his hair still wouldn't lay flat like he wanted it to. That made it even more adorable.

So, when Dean came home and walked into the bathroom (not knocking, as usual (because Sam could be undressing and who would interrupt THAT?)), only to find his little brother about to take a pair of scissors to his hair, he freaked.

"Whoa-Hey-! Sammy! What're you doin' baby boy?!"

Dean grabbed his brother's wrist, pulling the hand with the scissors away from his hair.

"Lemme go Dean!" the younger Winchester protested.

The elder refused, trying in vain to rip the scissors from his brother's hand.

"Sammy! Stop it! Whatever you're doing, don't!"

Sam turned to glare at him (but it looked more like a pout).

"I'm cutting my hair Dean."

Dean had gotten that from the scissors poised at hair. But hearing it was still a little shocking.

"WHY?"

"No reason, feel like change." Sam mumbled.

His brother didn't believe him for a second. Sam was like a sheet of glass for his elder brother, he could see right through him.

"Tell me the truth Sam, what's gotten into you." he gave him a concerned once over with his eyes. "I know your hair can be a bitch but, damn, you never wanted to just chop it before."

Sam looked uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to another.

"Look, I just…just wanna cut my hair okay?"

Oh he knew that tone. That was the "I-have-cookies-hidden-in-my-pillow-case" tone. The tone he always used when he was hiding something from his brother.

"No you don't." Dean spoke softly. "I know you don't. C'mon baby boy, tell me what's going on."

And Sam gave in, just like he always did. He sighed, closing his eyes and letting go of the scissors, which Dean instantly grabbed and set off to the side. His shoulders slumped and his head fell forward in that curve that only happened when he was really upset.

"Some…some kids at school said I looked like a slut, with my hair all messy. I figured it I cut it…"

Dean's temper flared first, then quieted into the usual protective rumble.

"Who?" he growled. "Who said that? I'll kick their asses."

Sam shrugged.

"Just some kids."

Dean glared at nothing in particular, green eyes flaring dangerously.

"Don't listen to 'em Sammy." he murmured, gently tugging his brother closer to him. "They're all pansies with no sense of good looking."

Sam came closer willingly, pressing into Dean's embrace without a second thought on the matter.

"You always say it looks like sex hair though…" Sam muttered.

"I say that cause I'm your big brother and ninety-five percent of the time I'm the one messing it up."

Sam blushed.

"Look Sammy, they're all stupid. Besides…I like your hair."

Sam looked up at him through his bangs, eyes big and innocent.

"Really Dean…?"

Dean smiled and leaned down, kissing his forehead affectionately.

"I've never lied to you baby boy. I love your hair, it's cute."

Sam flushed again, but quirked a small smile.

"Yeah?"

Dean pinched his cheek affectionately.

"Yeah."

Sam's smile turned to his usual grin that always made Dean's heart burst with happiness.

"Thanks Dean."

Dean couldn't help himself. It totally WASN'T his fault his brother was the cutest thing he'd ever seen.

Leaning down, he pressed their lips together (a little roughly, but he knew Sam didn't mind), nipping softly at Sam's bottom lip. Sam squeaked in surprise, but quickly recovered, wrapping his arms around his brother's shoulders and kissing back.

Dean gently pressed kisses across his brother's lips, tongue flicking out every now and again. Sam giggled when his elder brother licked his cheek like a dog.

"De!"

Dean just grinned.

"No more trying to cut your hair?"

"Fine." Sam blushed and looked away. "But only cause you like it."

MAH FIRST PROOOOOOOOOOOOOMPT! Yay.


	4. Memorial Day

**Prompt:** Memorial Day

**Summary: **In memory of everyone they lost.

**Rating:** T+

**Warnings: **……Emo-ness? Angst? Sexy boy-love?

Memorial day was not the Winchester's most favorite day in the world.

In the past, it had been the day their dad would get a really distant look in his eyes and forget they were even there. He'd sit still for about an hour after he woke up, staring at nothing, only speaking to thank them for a cup of coffee or something else. Then, out of the blue, he'd get up, grab his wallet and pocket gun, pull on his old coat and head out to a bar.

They'd never ask, never question where their dad was going or why, just let him go. When Sam turned ten, he crawled up on the couch next to Dean, curled into a ball beside him and rested his head on Dean's elbow.

"Dean, where does daddy go when he leaves…?"

"On hunts." Dean answered calmly.

"No I mean today. He leaves on this day every year."

Dean looked down at his baby brother, into those pretty green eyes shining with curiosity.

"You don't know what today is Sammy?"

Sam shook his head.

Well, that actually made sense, because they always had school off today, so no one was around to really tell Sam anything.

"It's Memorial Day." Dean said, raising a hand to pet his brother's hair. "It's a day where all the war veteran's remember those they lost in the war."

Sam cocked his head to the side.

"Which war?"

"Any war."

The young boy nibbled his bottom lip, thinking for a minute.

"So…daddy is celebrating his friends who died in the war he fought in?"

"In Vietnam, yeah."

The subject wasn't breached again, as Sam seemed satisfied with that answer.

But years later, in the middle of nowhere Minnesota, it's Memorial Day again and this time there's no dad. Hell, there's no dad, no Bobby, no Jo, no Ellen, no anyone who's ever taken the time of day to think about Memorial Day with them.

No, now it's just Sam and Dean in some shitty motel, TV on and not paying attention.

Technically, they've never been to war, never fought for their country, but that's just technicalities. Because they've fought for their people, for humanity, for the future of Earth in general, and that has to count for something. They've lost people too, good people, important people, people they loved, a lot.

So, today was for those people.

Dean came in, slammed two bottles of Jack Daniel's on the table, then a six pack, followed by a bottle of Vodka. He didn't say a word as he pulled out a chair and sat down opposite his brother, pulling out a bottle cap opener and opening the first beer. Sam was quiet, knew better than to say anything, and picked up a bottle of his own, twisting off the cap and letting it drop to the table.

They just sat there, throwing back beers for a good half an hour, six pack gone in just that time. Dean opened the Daniel's and poured into two glasses, spinning one over to Sam. Sam took the offered shot and swirled it slightly, waiting for Dean.

His brother was quiet a moment longer, then…

"For Jo and Ellen."

He threw his shot back. Sam followed suit quickly.

Dean poured another shot for both of them, then waited for Sam.

"…For Ash."

Sam drank first this time, then Dean. They swallowed, then Dean poured again.

"For Pamela."

Dean, then Sam, then another pour.

"Bella."

So she wasn't their closest friend, but she had helped them, and they had let her die.

Another pour.

"Bobby."

Crippled because of THEIR stupidity.

Pour.

"Castiel."

Sam's voice was quiet when he said it, Dean didn't mind, knew Sam meant it. Cas wasn't the closest to Sammy, but he did mean something to him. The angel had become the third Winchester.

Pour.

"….Dad."

They sucked down two shots in honor of their father.

Pour.

Dean didn't wait for Sam to say the next one, took it for himself.

"Mom."

The rest of the Jack Daniel's went down before they spoke again.

Two bottles of Jack and one six pack down, that left them with the vodka.

Sam popped and poured, remaining in his quiet, buzzed state of being. He passed the shot cup to Dean, waiting to see if his brother would speak. He knew his place right now, and that was to wait for Dean's signal, for him to start things up again. That's how it always was, and how it always would be no matter what.

Dean swallowed his shot, Sam followed, then reached for the bottle. To his surprise, his brother grabbed his wrist, stopped him. He didn't move, waiting for his brother's lead again, personality docile even in his slightly-drunk stupor.

The elder Winchester rose from where he sat, Sam's wrist still in his hand, and walked around the table. He looked down at his little brother, eyes calm and oddly gentle. He just stood there for a minute, then nudged Sam back in his seat with his knee. Sam complied, scooting back to make room for his brother. Dean moved slowly, like they had all the time in the world, crawling into a position on Sam's thighs, pressing his whole weight against his sibling. The younger submitted himself instantly, leaning his head back, resting his hands on the arms of the chair and spreading his knees. He knew what he was in this pair, he was the submissive, the receiver, the one who stood by Dean's side no matter what.

And unlike most, Sam was okay with that. He was okay with taking what Dean was willing to give, okay with walking the paths he chose. As long as Dean was with him, it was okay.

Dean leaned down, gently lifting Sam's head so he could connect their lips, kissing his brother slowly. The leisurely pace wasn't new, they'd gone slow before, taken hours to get anywhere actually, and they'd gone fast too, primal, feral, shirts torn and zippers broken. It all depended on their feelings at the given moment, and for right now, it was slow.

A tongue slicked along his lips gently, urging him to open his mouth, to which he once more complied. Sam moaned softly as his brother's tongue played around his mouth, toyed with his own and filled his senses with the taste of Dean. They stayed kissing for a long few minutes, lapping and suckling at each other's lips like only the most passionate lovers do.

Dean gently disengaged their lips, trailing wet kisses down from his brother's mouth to his chin to his neck. Sam tilted his head back again, letting the base of his neck rest in Dean's open palm. He let his body relax into Dean's firm hold, enjoying the soft buzz in his ears from the liquor he had been drinking.

Dean ran his tongue along his brother's pulse gently, lovingly, tasting the skin that came under his lips. He had tasted this a hundred times before, but he never got tired of the taste that accompanied his brother.

The next hour went by slowly, yet too damn fast at the same time. Shirts, under shirts and belts disappeared, zippers were undone and kisses trailed steadily lower and lower. Sam paused mid-kiss, pulling back slightly to look at his elder sibling.

Dean stared back, eyes serene and questioning.

"….For us."

Dean's eyes widened a minute, then he dove forward, locking his lips almost violently with Sam's. Neither did much talking the rest of the night, focusing intently on rememorizing each other's bodies. And that was how their Memorial Day passed, without thought or care in a sex and alcohol induced haze.

Tomorrow, they'd be back to normal , or as normal as two brothers who were also lovers trying to stop the apocalypse could be. Dean wouldn't drink…well, wouldn't drink AS MUCH, Sam would go back to being a sarcastic snot and they'd be themselves again. But for today, they would weep as they made love, in memory of everyone around them who they had lost.

Happy Memorial Day everyone. FOR A CONTEST OVER AT ~ObscureanForbidden on dA! ....Which I might add is a Wincest club. Anyhow.


	5. No Fear of Kidnap

**Prompt:** Kidnap

**Summary:** Kidnap is one thing Sam doesn't worry about.

**Rating:** T+

**Warnings:** Kidnap, implied blasphemy (sex in a place of worship)

Sam has to worry about a lot of things while on the job. He's gotta worry about monsters and ghouls and ghosts and demons and lord only knows what other crap decides to turn around and try to get a piece of Winchester ass. Hell, at this point, he's gotta worry about the freaking Devil (yeah that's with a CAPITAL "D") and heavens holy "let's-tear-Sam-Winchester-apart" wrath.

But, there's one little thing Sam will never worry about, and that's kidnap.

I know, I know, that's one of those things that you'd think would be pretty high on the "Daily Occurrences in the Life of Sam" list, but weirdly enough, it's really not. In fact, it's not even on the list of worries and fears, and if it is, Sam has forgotten where.

Ever since the Bender family (Missy and her fucked up father and brothers, those psycho hillbillies), Dean's never let anyone close enough to even try. Something changed that day, seeing Sam in that cage, kept in like an animal, eyes shining with fear. It was like something in Dean snapped and "Over-Protective-Dean" became "Touch-My-Brother-And-DIE-Dean".

No one touched Sam, no one but Dean. Never ever ever.

That was why, six months into the apocalypse, some dumbass angels decided it'd be a good idea to hold Sam Winchester hostage, and were never heard from again.

Dean didn't care who they worked for or who they were. He didn't give a flying fuck if Cas appeared and kicked his ass for "killing" angels, didn't care if God showed up and kicked his ass either, actually.

Right now, Dean feels like he can take on a hundred more of these suit-wearing fuckers and still have room for Lucifer himself. He's got blood on his hands and a knife on the ground by his boot and a pistol in his back pocket and so help him if anyone tries to come at him right now they will NOT live past second two.

He's walking across the floor, up the stairs, shooting another (fucking goddamn cock sucking) angel in the head. Then he's through the second floor doorway and the sight he sees makes him want to kill something all the more.

Sam's tied to a chair with only his t-shit and jeans on, coat gone, over shirt gone, head hanging, blood dripping from his busted lip. He's got blood all over him, his own blood, and there are plenty of bruises all over his arms and that sliver of stomach that's showing s turning blue-purple.

Dean's not angry now, he's absolutely raging.

The gun goes off five times and five more vessels (god he hopes those fuckers were already dead and in heaven before he shot them) drop to the ground with bullets through their skulls. Dean's taking long strides, feet pounding calmly each time he takes a step. No one would dare come near him now, not with that look on his face.

Dean's anger is uncontrolled, dangerous, fiery, deadly, you come within an inch and you'll be swept into the vortex. But right now Dean's calm, cool and collected, totally lacking the usual spitfire he's known for. And that's ten thousand times more dangerous.

He's come up to Sam now and he just stops, just stand there, hands at side, gun in his right, left in a fist, just waiting for something. Sam's still got his head down, but suddenly, when his brother stops in front of him he looks up, up past his way too long bangs and into his brother's matching green eyes. For a second, the world around Dean disappears and he's forgotten his own name, just like every time he looks into his precious Sammy's eyes.

His breath is coming out shaky, Sam that is, and Dean doesn't like the slight wheeze that he's hearing, the same one that appears every time someone puts pressure on that pretty little neck. Dean swoops down and he kisses the top of Sam's head, murmuring incoherent sweetnesses to his brother.

"I gotcha Sammy….nothing's gonna happen to you baby…I'm here now…Love you…."

And Sam's keening in the back of his throat, all low and pretty like a cat purring, rubbing his cheek against Dean's straining against the bonds keeping him tied to the chair. All Dean does is smile softly, glad his baby brother is okay, and sets about undoing the bonds.

As soon as they're undone, he's dragging Sam up, holding him close and pressing his lips to his throat. Sam's gasping and trembling under the combination of pain from his wounds and pleasure from his brother's ministrations and is trying TRYING to tell Dean to stop they're in a place of worship damnit! But Dean's just grinning and saying they're already goin' to hell for this happening at all, an' why not screw with God's head as much as they can in the process?

And Sam couldn't agree more.

So when they get back to the motel, Sam all wrapped in Dean's arms, cradled close even when others can see them, Dean locks the door and closes the curtains. He lays Sam out on the bed and takes care of his cuts and bruises, kisses him softly every time he whimpers in pain.

Sam doesn't worry about kidnap, because he knows that Dean will show up and kick his kidnappers sorry asses. And he's the one who will be curled up in Dean's arms that night, knowing there's a knife under his pillow and if anyone comes near, he's gonna smoke 'em.

**A/N:** .....You know....I actually kinna liked this one.


	6. Not Interested

**Prompt:** Jealousy

**Summary: **When Sam Winchester says "I'm not interested", take it to heart.

**Rating: **T

**Warnings:** Dean being overprotective and jealous, PDA

"Hey there hot stuff."

Sam blinked, then blinked again, then blinked a third time in utter shock.

Usually, Dean was the one getting hit on a picked up by every girl in the whole bar not him. So, if that was true, then why was there a pretty blond girl leaned against the table, breasts practically falling out of her shirt, smiling at him.

"Uhm….Hello?" he said, still a little shocked.

Her smile widened.

"What's a handsome guy like yourself doing sitting over here in corner reading?"

Sam quickly hid the cover of the book he was reading ("Demons and the Occult") under the table on his lap.

"Oh, I'm just, uh, just waiting for someone."

The blonde, to Sam's horror, slipped into the empty seat beside him with her smile still in place.

"Then let me keep you company."

Sam was too polite to say no, so instead he just slipped his book into his bag so there was no chance of her seeing it and tried to keep calm. He would really rather have sat there alone, but obviously, that wasn't happening.

"So tell me, what's your name handsome?"

Sam looked down at his hands, wishing that Dean were back by now.

"Sam." he muttered.

"Sam, well, I'm Jenny, nice to meet you."

She obviously didn't mind his shyness and she wasn't getting the hint when he refused to look at her.

He jolted when he felt her press herself against his arm. Surprisingly, her boobs weren't fake, according to the feel of them against his forearm. Of course, that just meant that she had nice breasts, which, honestly, Sam didn't really care about.

"Tell me Sammy, what brings you here tonight?"

Sam gritted his teeth. Oh HELL but he hated when anyone other than Dean called him Sammy. HATED it almost as much as he hated Azaezel.

"Just passing through town."

She pressed closer and he tried very hard not to recoil.

"Just passing through huh? Well, I'm sure I can give you an excuse to stick around a little longer…"

Mentally, Sam was freaking out. Girls were only supposed to be like this with Dean! Not him too! He was the quiet, stick to the corners, angsty little brother! Dean was the lady's man!

Regardless, it was time to draw the line.

"Uh, I'm sorry, I'm really not interested."

Well, it wasn't the most firm of put downs, but it was a put down nonetheless and he hoped it got the message across.

"Aw c'mon…"

Apparently not.

"Really, I'm not-"

Then Jenny stepped over the line into no-man's land.

Leaning over, regardless of what Sam was saying, she kissed him full on the mouth. Sam's eyes widened in shock and slight horror(disgust) and this time he seriously did recoil. Almost on automatic, he raised his hand and pushed Jenny back, ripping their lips apart.

"Seriously!" he choked, trying not to gag at the taste of her lip gloss on his lips. "I'm NOT INTERESTED!"

"Sammy?"

Both Jenny and Sam looked up, Sam's face lighting up instantly at the sight of his brother and lover.

"Dean!"

Dean was looking at them in confusion and shock, quickly assessing the situation. When he had first seen the chick kissing Sam, he had been seriously pissed, until he saw Sam's eyes widen and then push her off. After that, his over protective side took over for him.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" he growled and the blonde, walking over and wrenching Sam out of her grip.

"Who the hell are YOU?" the girl hissed back, obviously not pleased.

Dean's eyes flashed dangerously.

Who did this slut think she WAS? Molesting his baby brother, then acting all indignant when he came over and pulled off.

"I'm what you wish you were, whore."

And leaning down, he kissed Sam almost with almost bruising force on the mouth, stating absolute claim to the young male. Sam of course, squeaked and flushed, but didn't struggle against his elder sibling's hold. This was Dean, Dean was allowed to stake him as his territory any time he wanted to. That was his job as his elder sibling and partner.

Dean broke off the kiss a few seconds later, smiling down at Sam. He gently nosed Sam's temple.

"Let's get going, 'kay Sam?"

"O-okay Dean."

And Sam grabs his bag and quickly follows Dean out of the bar, leaving Jenny sitting there, gaping after them.

xXxXx

**A/N:** Okay, so, suddenly hyphens aren't working. (Hence the xXxXx up there). WHAT THE HELL. =_=

But yes, I know this isn't the best display of jealousy on Dean's part, which is why I'll take it as a prompt again at another time. I have two more to get through, then I'll be out of prompts. But hey! Keep 'em coming! I'll write 'em all! I'm on a freaking Wincest ROLL!


	7. And then Bobby walked in

**Prompt:** Bobby walks in

**Summary:** You know Dean, I TOLD you to lock the door…

**Rating:** M (for the beginning part)

**Warnings:** Bobby's mouth, Dean having his way with Sammy :D All that good stuff.

Sam moaned, back arching as Dean's tongue trailed down his neck towards his chest, disregarding his shirt entirely by wrenching it off. If it ripped, neither brother really cared all that much, concentrating more on just FEELING one another.

It had been a long, annoying, boring hunt and Dean was getting fed up with Cas sending them off around the US to take care of God's problems. Right now, he was going to ignore whatever responsibility he had and fuck his little brother into the mattress because hey, this was their sin, and they were more than happy to keep on sinning.

The elder Winchester sat up only long enough to pull off his coat and over shirt, Sam sitting up to help him out of his undershirt, before they fell back on the bed again, mouths connected. Sam moaned again, tongue battling with his brother's, tugging impatiently at the belt loops of his pants. Dean laughed into their kiss and Sam growled, biting his bottom lip and sucking harshly before letting go and attacking his neck.

Sam knew Dean liked it when he was assertive, even though he ALWAYS ended up on the bottom (which was perfectly fine by him, he liked bottoming out to Dean).

Dean's hands fiddled with the belt around Sam's waist, pulling it off and throwing it to a random corner of the room. He groaned as Sam bit at his neck, laving his tongue along the bite marks when he was done before bending his head to nip at his collarbone.

"Fuck, Sam…"

Sam didn't listen, pushing up so his brother was sitting on his knees, leaning forward so he had access to his chest. He kissed down and along the golden skin, mewling prettily as he tasted his sibling's skin. Dean groaned again, fighting hard to not let Sam continue, he really wanted to let him go on, but he knew he couldn't. Grabbing the back of Sam's head by his hair, he tugged him away from his chest.

Another mewl, much more whine-like this time.

"Deeeean…"

Dean just about lost his self control when Sam keened his name like that. Instead, he leaned down and proceeded to attempt to suck his soul out through his mouth. He pulled back after a few moments, a line of saliva still connecting their eager mouths.

"Ah Sammy, if you keep that up we're never gonna get to the best part baby."

Sam whined in annoyance, once more tugging at his brother's belt loops.

"Then hurry up!"

He was unceremoniously pushed back onto the bed, Dean ravaging his neck with bites and kisses.

"Impatient little slut aren't you?"

Sam groaned, arching up into Dean's mouth.

"Only your slut big brother."

"Damn fucking straight you are."

Dean undid the button and fly of Sam's jeans, gripping the denim and pulling it harshly down his brother's legs. In seconds, it was gone, across the room and in god knew which corner, to be forgotten until a later date.

Dean was about to grab his brother's boxers when…

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST-"

Dean nearly toppled off the bed in shock.

Instead, he whipped around to see what Sam was staring at, blushing ten different shades of red. (Damnit, Sam was only supposed to blush like that when Dean was whispering dirty things to him!)

There, in the doorway, stood none other than Bobby Singer, eyes wide and mouth open.

"….Uhm…This isn't it looks like?" Sam offered meekly.

"The hell it isn't!"

"…We aren't the hunters you're looking for?"

"Dean, Jedi mind tricks aren't REAL."

"Damnit."

Sam kicked Dean's knee, basically meaning "get off!", but he didn't move. The three males were watching one another cautiously, or, Bobby was watching Sam and Dean, Sam was watching Dean in case he decided he didn't care Bobby was there and continued ravishing him, and Dean was glaring at Bobby.

"You know…" Sam said quietly. "I DID say lock the door…"

Dean had the decency to look sheepish.

All was silent for a good five minutes before Bobby spoke again.

"Dear god. I knew your daddy fucked you up but I didn't know he fucked you up THIS bad."

"Hey!" Dean said indignantly. "I jumped Sam of my own volition thanks!"

"On Halloween when I was sixteen…"

"Yes, yes, details details. You looked hot."

"I was covered in dirt and blood."

"Hence hot."

"You worry me."

"I should."

"Boys, still standing here."

They fell silent again.

Sam was feeling decidedly awkward just about now, laying there in his boxers, older brother straddling his hips. It was sort of a compromising position to be in when it was just the two of them, but with Bobby there it was a lot worse. Clearing his throat, he tried to shift out from under Dean to no avail. His brother just wasn't budging.

"Did you need something Bobby?" Dean finally asked. "Or can I get back to making Sam scream?"

"DEAN!"

The ten different shades of red had multiplied to a good forty.

"Well, I was gonna say we should go get a drink and a few girls, I can tell you're busy. I'll be down at the bar if you boys need me."

He turned around and was about to leave, before turning again and saying;

"Oh yeah, and, if you two are gonna be screwing around, lock the door. And you're paying for the soundproofing on the room at my place. Later!"

And he was out the hotel room door again, closing it behind him and walking off.

Sam gaped at the closed door, while Dean just looked sort of smug.

"…..I really wonder about Bobby sometimes."

"Hey, the man is gonna let us soundproof our room, that means you don't have an excuse when we're at Bobsters."

Sam's eyes widened.

"Dean Alan Winchester don't you fucking da-"

Sam's words were entirely lost as his brother jumped him again.

**oOoOo**

**A/N: **

Uhm...heh...yeah...see...uh...prompt...twins...heh...

Yeah I have no excuse, do I?

RANDOM WINCEST FOR WINCEST'S SAKE! I needed a bit of a push for my writer's block, so effing sue me! XP

ENJOY TWINSIES!


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